


Fractured

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Transformation, Assassin Logic | Logan Sanders, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Eventual Happy Ending, Evil Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Flashbacks, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Panic Attacks, Prince Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Prince Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Prince Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Unsympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Virgil is the much beloved crown prince of the kingdom of Liotta.He is also missing, vanished in the night.Logan is Prince Remus of Visalia's right hand man, representative from Raiki, and assassin. When a young man helps him and gets greviously wounded, he takes him back to the palace. The boy is the missing prince.Remus is prince of Visalia, running the kingdom, which along with it's allies in Raiki are at war with the kingdom of Liotta. Virgil's kingdom. But the boy is hurt and scared, and, as they soon learn, not at all to blame.Is everything falling apart, or is it simply all coming together?
Comments: 31
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEADS UP
> 
> This one is quite a bit darker than most of my other works, so make sure to read the tags before jumping in. I also have only a very vague idea of where this is going, so expect erratic uploads.  
> That said, I am having fun with it, I haven't done this much world building in a while.

He’s bruised. He’s bruised and bleeding and hurt, and it’s all he can do to keep running, keep running, keep running. 

This should not be happening, there’s no way this should be happening, he hadn’t even done anything, he hadn’t even meant to do anything, he’d just been walking, and heard low menacing voices, and of course it was some local Visali thugs who had cornered a Raikian foreigner, and dammit, he always had to step in, why did he always step in? The idiot deserved it, too, coming to this part of town dressed like that, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t loaded.

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, he out of anyone and everyone, shouldn’t, should be keeping a low profile, should be hiding his face, should be staying away from any trouble, but he couldn’t help it. 

His back twinged with pain, and he bit his tongue, to keep from screaming, stumbling over his feet at the burn, at the cracking agony, and he gasped, the world blurring as his vision swam. He hadn’t even realized he’d been reaching, but of course he had, and he fell, nearly retching at the pain, managing to drag himself into an alley, curling tight into a ball, praying to Laidon they just passed by. 

Relief broke over him like a tidal wave as a few moments later he heard pounding footsteps, not even hesitating as they raced past, oblivious to his hiding spot, and he relaxed marginally, head swimming and stomach churning. Odd, the effect of his curse should have worn off by now.

Then he looked down and all the blood rushed from his face. 

Well. The dagger in his stomach could certainly explain the added dizziness and pain, red leaking out and slowly soaking the dark fabric that passed as a shirt. It was oddly fascinating to watch. 

Oh, wouldn’t his brother find this so wonderfully amusing, after all the actual effort to get rid of him, a random mugging and his own idiotic sense of decency are what killed him. 

He hissed at a shivering wash of pain and cold, curling around the wound. He didn’t know what to do. If he pulled it out, he’d bleed out. But he couldn’t just leave it there forever, and he was pretty sure he was gonna die anyway. No way that knife hadn’t hit a couple critical organs, it would certainly be more painful and slow to leave it, but the thought of ripping it out…

He froze at the sound of more footsteps, slower footsteps, trying to draw back into the shadows, panting at the ice that flooded his veins at the movement. 

“Ah. There you are.” He flinched, looking up at the brown eyes of the Raikian man, hissing as he stepped closer, feeling the phantom claws trying to come out, almost, for a moment, feeling them, then the binding magic slammed into place, his back burning with it, and he was unable to help the agonized whimper that slipped past his lips, gasping for breath, vision blacking out, shifting with static. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and lashed out, movements clumsy and slow, easily avoided, especially without his claws. 

“Don’t… don’t… please…” he managed weakly, unable to blink the world back into focus. 

“I’m not going to harm you. You need medical attention.” No. No, then they’d see and they’d know, and he was willing to help now, but that’s because he didn’t know!

“No.” He gritted out, shoving away from the arms that had been trying to lift him, baring his teeth, they may not be fangs, but he could still bite, and he would. 

“I would recommend staying still. Any movement is simply making the knife tear further.” He hissed again in response, getting a sigh in return. “Very well. I hate to do this forcefully, but I cannot in good consious simply leave you here.” His heart sped as the figure came closer once again. He snapped his teeth and lashed out, spitting and clawing as hands pinned his arms, kicking and snarling and fighting for all he was worth, feeling his nails lengthen into claws, and he felt it connect with skin for a brief, satisfying moment, before the binding flared to life, his back aflame, and he screamed, writhing to try and extinguish the pain, it only burning further into him, until it became too much and the world stopped.  
…  
Logan had never heard anyone make a sound like that, and he hoped he never did again. It had been pure, unrelenting agony, almost inhuman. He had also never seen someone already injured fight so hard against someone clearly trying to help, but something had put the fear of the gods into this man now unconscious in the alley. 

He lifted his hand to his cheek, feeling the three long scratches there, not deep to do any scarring, but they seemed too long for human nails to have done them. Then again, what else would this man be? 

He was shivering, still curled tight, and he sighed. He was not leaving him here, not when he’d stepped in to save him from those idiots who cornered him. He could have dealt with them himself, but he knew from experience he didn’t look the type to know how to fight. He did, and well. Still, the knife had been an unexpected factor, one that the man was now suffering greatly for. 

He scooped him into his arms, and even now, the man shook, weakly trying to shove away his hands, heart pounding irregularly, in a way Logan was sure was not simply from blood loss. 

“N…no…no…” He whispered weakly, letting out a shaking gasp before going completely limp in Logan’s arms. He cursed, adjusting him in his arms so he would be the least jostled by his hurried movements, taking off as fast as he could without exacerbating the injuries. 

He was light. Far lighter than anyone should be, he’d hadn’t been eating well, if at all, for an extended period of time. He’d had dark, warry eyes, someone who had seen too much too young and suffered for it, had been hurt. He feared being vulnerable because someone had taken advantage of or caused that state, and used it to hurt him. He had shaggy black hair that curled just slightly, obscuring his face. He was pale and bruised, some old and some new, he had been on the streets for a while now, and not faring all that well. He was hiding something or hiding from something or someone. 

That was what he had puzzled out, before he slipped through the castle servant’s entrance, the guards paying him no mind, he was always coming and going at odd times, with odd bundles. 

He hurried past the main entrance to the castle itself, instead going around the side, to the back lawns, then the sparse grove of trees and the shed, that had at this point been expanded, if a bit haphazardly, into a larger workplace slash “club house”, as Remus was wont to call it. He didn’t bother knocking before shoving open the door, ducking instantly, an axe thunking into the wood just above his head. 

“Unnecessary.” He said flatly, rather unimpressed. 

“Oh, come on! You could have been an assassin, aren’t you always warning me about them?” 

“I am an assassin, and I happen to work for you. Killing your own assassin hardly seems productive. Now stop with the games, and come here, I need actual assistance.” He replied, and instantly Remus was at his side, dropping the humor from his tone. 

“What is it?” 

“He has a knife in his gut-“ 

“Kinky.” Logan slapped his arm, hard enough it stung, but not enough to mean he was truly mad. 

“which he got because it was meant for me. And then he was terrified when I tried to assist, even after I made it clear that was indeed my intention, and made no move to do anything else and…” 

“And?” Remus asked, tilting his head. 

“I don’t know. There’s something else, but I don’t know what it is.” The man’s scream rang in his ears, still, full of pain and agony, yes, but also a broken kind of despair, of anger, piercing and sharp and… lost. 

“Set him down. Get the scissors, we need to cut off his shirt so I can see what we’re dealing with. It doesn’t look like the knife is the only injury we’re working with here.” 

Logan did as ordered, quickly placing him down on the work table, cutting away the fabric of his shirt. His skin was mottled with bruises, but the stab seemed the only major injury on his front. In one fluid motion, Remus grabbed the hilt and pulled it out, Logan holding down the man as his back arched, and he choked on his scream, blood flowing wildly down his stomach even with Logan staunching it. Then Remus’s magic set to work, repairing and healing the damaged organs, flesh, skin, though at the trace of magic, the man went completely tense, every muscle clenched, his teeth grit, hands clenching so hard they nearly drew blood. 

“The bastard’s fighting me!” Remus exclaimed, surprised and just a tad delighted at the unexpectedness of it. Instead of backing off, he dug in deeper, he wasn’t going to stop healing the twerp just because he didn’t like the feel of magic. He was almost done, when something large and dark and yowling pounced on him from the shadows, making him recoil and open his eyes, mind stinging from the mental attack. 

The man was trembling violently, almost seizuring, and Remus’s eyes widened at a glimpse of his back. 

“Logan, turn him over.” He did as Remus asked, face blanching at the sight. 

Barely healed, raised ridges of slashed skin, intricately carved swirling, runic patterns, carved into his flesh, dark, ichorous magic inking through every inch of it, several of the scabs broken and oozing, cracked no doubt with some help from the fight today, if not outright infected already. 

And there, on the base of his neck, the dark birthmark tattoo of two cat’s eyes, marking him without question for what he was. 

A Camolione. His very being split in two, half human half animal. And Logan suddenly realized exactly why the man was so terrified of anyone and everyone. Because he suddenly knew exactly who this man, this boy, must be. 

Virgil Anxiola, the missing crown prince to the Liotta kingdom, who had vanished out of his own bedroom three months earlier. Liotta, which was currently at war with both Visalia and Raiki. The question remained, how the hell had he gotten to the capital of Visalia, and what on earth had happened to him?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Virgil get here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst train leaving the station!

He felt hands on him. He struggled, unable to do anything, then there was searing heat through his body. He tensed instantly, feeling magic crawling over him, and he snarled, fighting, clawing, railing against it. The power dug in deeper, firmer, and he panicked, crashing against the foreign power. Then he felt a surge of warmth, and a shadowy form pounced from the edges of his being, yowling and howling angry, relief breaking over him, at the small moment of connection, before the binding once again took effect, sparking through him like lightening. But he had seen his Spirit, for the first time in months, and at least repelled the magic, as he felt the slimy slickness sink into his bones, dragging him down once again.   
…  
He was screaming. He could feel the knife, cutting into his skin, he was far past pleading, begging, because the knife wasn’t the worst of the pain, the worst of the pain was the slow, strangling pull, ripping him and his spirit from his soul, his panther’s claws digging into his scalp, trying to wrap himself around him, trying to protect him, even as he was declawed and defanged, even as he felt him weakening and slipping away, he snarled and bit and fought, but that just hurt more, because he was fighting him, his own body, his own self, where those marks were being so carefully carved into his flesh, locking him away, splitting them. 

He was in the cell. Delierious and fevered, and he couldn’t tell what was real or what wasn’t anymore, he didn’t know what was happening around him, his head swam and something wet was dripping down his back, he reached for his spirit, shaking at the wash of pain and emptiness that hit him, barely able to feel him at all, to feel anything at all, he was gone, he was gone, and he was alone, and they took him! 

They’d intended to kill him. He knew that, that they’d intended to bind him so he couldn’t fight back, drag him out somewhere and kill him, make it look like an attack, a kidnapping gone wrong, an act of terrorism from the enemy, who else would mutilate the prince like that, rip him in two, like that? 

But they underestimated him. He was half dead, sure, and missing his Spirit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight back, he’d always been the fastest, he’d always been a good climber, always known how to slip into the tiniest of hiding places. His spirit was kind hearted and soft, but he had been teaching him since he was a kitten, how to use his claws, how to survive when he must, so that’s what he did. Survived. 

It was hell, he barely made his way out of the forest, barely collapsed in the back of some random wagon, burying himself under the sacks of grain, or whatever was back there, he didn’t know and didn’t care, before collapsing into exhausted sleep. 

The next few weeks were a haze of pain and exhaustion and fear and lonliness. He learned how to reach his spirit, eventually, in the smallest of ways. If he didn’t reach too hard, if he let himself drift just between sleeping and waking, for a few seconds, he could almost feel Patton, nuzzling against his hand. Anything else, anything more, destroyed him, even just thinking about it activated the binding carved into his back, shot agony into his marrow, paralyzed him with ice crystals in his veins, stopping his heart and pounding him to dust, and those first few days, few weeks, he spent nearly constantly curled into a ball of cracking anguish. 

He kept moving. He didn’t know where, or how, or why, he just kept moving, kept wandering, just making his way further and further from the capitol, then from the kingdom’s outskirts, then into the next kingdom over, and the farther he got the less he had to worry about being recognized on the street, though he didn’t think anyone who had known him would recognize him now, anyway. He was lucky his shirt was black, or he’d scare people away with the blood and ichor trickling down his back. He’d stolen what he could, when he could, settling in Visalia under an abandoned wharf, just barely trying to survive and avoid the major gangs or thugs in the area. Then he stumbled into that stupid fight and got stupidly stabbed and-  
…  
He shot awake, trying to shoot upwards, but something jolted on his arms, and he blinked blurrily down at his wrists, panic shooting through him, at the cuffs there, locking him in place against the frame of the bed, his stomach pulsing sharply at the motion, his back cracking further, but that didn’t matter, that was nothing, his gaze was locked on those cuffs, all he could see, huge in his vision, because he’d been caught, he’d been caught and they’d already taken Patton, they’d already taken everything, what else were they going to do to him? 

No. No, he wasn’t going to let them, he wasn’t giving into this. He tugged, the wood was solid, but the cuffs weren’t enchanted, which was something. He had luck on his side then, this he could get out off. He inhaled sharply, dislocating the thumb on one hand so he could slide his hand out, biting his tongue as he popped it back into place. He reached up into his hair, finding the small clip he’d hidden in there for just this reason, easily bending it into the necessary shape, making quick work of the second cuff. 

He swung his legs over the bed, testing his weight on them. Everything hurt like he’d been trampled by a horse, but they held, they were shaky, but they held. He looked around, finding the door after a moment, slinking over to it, his efforts thwarted as the door swung open when he was only halfway across the room. 

He stumbled back, nearly falling, then a hand was on him, and he flinched back harder, stumbling back into the corner of the room, losing his footing and sliding down the wall, shaking as he met those brown eyes again, the man taking a step closer, and his breathing hitched, burying his head against his knees, drawing back further. 

“You are Virgil.” He said, more than asked, but the response was immediate, the boy’s breathing became ragged and irregular, somehow making himself even smaller, clearly terrified. “I am not going to hurt you, Virgil.” He winced at the use of his name once again, seemingly not believing his words. 

“pl… please… please don’t… just let m-m-me go, p-please…” Logan’s gaze flickered to the bed, the one still secure, one unlocked cuff, brows furrowing. 

“Ah. You are not trapped here. You may leave whenever you like, though for medical reasons, I would prefer you didn’t. I apologize for the cuffs, but you were thrashing in your sleep, and we were worried you would hurt yourself further.” He seemed skeptical, but he wasn’t shaking quite so hard anymore. 

“We?” His voice was wary and scratchy. 

“Me and Prince Remus.” No. ohhh no, no he was in their custody, the royal family’s custody, dammit, why did he ever do anything for anyone? They were going to kill him. Execute him for a traitor, torture him for information, ransom him back to his kingdom, and somehow that was the scariest of all, because they would torture and kill him, He would, and that hurt, it hurt, and he just wanted it to be over, he didn’t know what he’d done, that had made his brother do this to him, he didn’t understand, and it hurt! 

“virgil. Breathe. Take a deep breath in.” He couldn’t. He wouldn’t, this was some kind of trick, of course it was, and he wished he had could reach his spirit, he needed Patton, he needed him, but the mere thought sent a jolt through him like a bucket of water had been dumped on him, which just made him cry harder. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying, but he couldn’t stop, he was going to die, he’d made it this far, and now he was going to die. 

He could imagine what Patton must be saying right now, from wherever they’d locked him away, shoved him to in the depths of his mind, in the depths of his soul, he only knew Patton was still there at all because of the brief moments he was able to call on his spirit, use his claws, if he didn’t have that, he would have already given up. 

Patton would say… take a deep breath, Virgil. Breath in for four… hold for seven… out for eight… that’s good, kitten. Just breathe.

He could imagine Patton, curled around him, his purr in his chest, rumbling through him, soothing him with his warmth, making stupid puns just to get him to smile, butting his head against his chin, demanding pets.

But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t. 

But… someone was speaking softly. Someone was counting, the same way Patton would count for him, someone was trying to soothe him, gently, and he managed finally to take a deep breath in and out, regaining some control, though he didn’t stop shaking. 

“what… what are you going to do, to me?” He asked, managing to keep his voice mostly steady. “I don’t know anything, really, I can’t help you, I’m useless, I don’t have any information, I don’t… I don’t know.” He rambled, and Logan winced at the lost and broken pain, in those last words, in the implication of those words. 

“we aren’t going to hurt you. We just want to help, alright?” He could tell Virgil was slipping away again, his expression bleak as he finally looked up at his eyes once more. 

“I want Patton. I want… I want Pat, I w-want…” 

“I know. I know, and we’re working on that, I promise, we will get him back to you.” He didn’t know if his words made it through or not, because in the next moment, Virgil’s eyes slipped closed, and he carefully caught him as he slumped unconscious once more. He tutted at the red leaking through the bandages wrapped around his torso, clearly in his panic he’d reopened what little had healed, if anything had healed. He easily shifted him back onto the bed, careful as he unwrapped the bandages, wincing as they stuck to the open wounds, the poor boy barely whimpering anymore at the pain, too exhausted even for that. 

Instead of moving away, he stayed, sitting on the edge of the bed after he finished tending to the wounds once more, contemplating the child, resting a supportive hand on his shoulder. 

He was not the most adept at magic, but even he could feel the poisonous power leaking through the monstrous carvings into his back. It had been easy, to discern what it did, though that was just as horrifying as the act of creating the curse cast upon him. 

A binding, made of his own flesh, written in his own blood, so potent and strong he only half believed even Remus could break it. It had ripped his animal half from him, locked it away somewhere small and hidden inside him, as good as cut him in half, leaving him a shadow of his former self. It was a worse fate than death, to Virgil’s kind, a punishment reserved for the very, very worst, and the very, very, few. 

Patton must be the name of his Spirit. From his understanding, they acted as a kind of moral guide, as well as a companion. They could materialize at will, just as physical as any other being, and vanished back into the tattoo either when they needed to rest, or were greviously injured, in which case they would need to stay non physical until they recovered. The Spirit and the Human were two separate beings, but also the two halves of one soul. It was a complicated, not completely understood relationship, but endlessly fascinating. The Spirit could also grant the human powers, depending on the strength of the spirit and how strong the bond was with their human, in some cases, the human could shift completely into their animal form, in which case the roles were reversed. The Spirit would have control of the body, while the human was relegated to the non physical plain. 

Virgil’s relationship with his Spirit was clearly very strong. He was certain the boy had managed to call on his spirit, Patton, in his panic, when he slashed at him, and though it had resulted in immense punishment from the curse, he had reached through the binding spell and accessed some power. That was incredible, and nearly impossible with the strength of the magic acting upon him, though it was clear they didn’t have any avenue of actual communication. 

For one to lose all contact from a bond so strong so suddenly, it would kill most people. Not to mention the fact the binding curse was carved into his skin, that injury alone would have killed most people. He was a fighter, a determined, vicious fighter, and he just hoped they would be able to find something that could actually truly help him reclaim the missing half of his soul before that determination died out completely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Logan try and help Virgil.

He was aching. Every part of him ached, and he just wanted to let it end, but he couldn’t. maybe it was Patton’s influence, reaching through, but it told him to just keep going. Just keep going. Voices, he heard voices through his haze. 

“I’m working on it.” One voice, the unfamiliar voice, said. 

“Work faster!” Logan snapped.

“Last I checked, you’re not the one who gives the orders around here, Lo.”

“I’m also not the one with magic capable of breaking a spell or a curse, or the one skilled in healing, so perhaps you don’t have the high ground here either.” 

“You’re getting spicey, Logan, didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“He is dying, Remus!” Logan’s voice rang out, sharp and cutting, and he could feel the air in the room freeze. “He is dying. And I cannot do anything more than I already have, because the wounds plaguing him the worst at this point are no longer the physical ones. So yes, I am frustrated and angry because he is a child, and someone mutilated his body and his soul, and I swear to the gods if we lose him Remus I will never be able to forgive myself.” He heard the door open and slam, wincing slightly at the noise, before he felt the bed dip and slipped away.  
…  
“pl-please don’t… s-stop… don’t… PATTON!” He screamed, thrashing, trying to get away, trying to get to safety, trying to reach his spirit, through the wall that was being thrust between them, like thick ice growing into an unbreakable barrier, like stone walls a thousand feet high, it grew and grew, impossible to breach, no matter how hard he threw himself against it, how hard he could feel Patton clawing and railing against it, their connection growing weaker and weaker until it just… stopped. 

It just stopped. 

And Patton was gone. 

Gone, Gone, GONE, GIVE HIM BACK, GIVE HIM BACK, PLEASE, PLEASE JUST GIVE HIM BACK, WHY!? WHAT HAD HE DONE, WHY!? Why why whywhywhywhy- 

“because I want what’s mine, little brother.” Was the response whispered in his ear, as the flat blade of the knife trailed across his bare skin, causing him to shiver, shake. Then the pain was back, as the knife plunged into his shoulder, and the world went black, the scream not even registering as coming from his mouth, his vocal chords giving out and breaking from the strain, copper flooding his throat, as he just, endlessly, screamed, clawing at his insides, at the fire, at the abyss opening up inside of him, threatening to swallow him whole. 

“Please… Vi… eath… not… ing to help.” The words were blurred, barely comprehensible, cutting in and out, though he could feel hands on him, holding him down, weight on his legs, keeping him in place, and all he could do was sob, sob and beg and cry, hands fisting into the fabric underneath him, his lungs aching, screaming for air, it hurt, it hurt, and there were hands on him, and he couldn’t break free and he was so exposed, he couldn’t hide, and it burned, it burned, it burned! 

Then the burning exploded into fire, stars erupting behind his eyes, firecrackers in his bones, and he managed, finally managed, to break free, to throw off whoever was holding him down, a furious, angry yowl mixing with his scream as the fire exploded inside of him, then his eyes were flashing, his claws out, his teeth fangs, a dark, huge blur of fur and muscle and darkness so deep it was almost shadow, growling before him, tail lashing and ears flat, muscles tensed to spring. In a split second, Logan had been batted across the room, knocked against a wall, and the shadow was on top of Remus, snarling, pinning him down. 

Virgil was frozen. He could feel it. He could feel the pain bleeding away, the fire dimming down to a gentle warmth, the gentle presence he’d always known, had felt so lost and lonely and bare without, could feel the anger and fury and fear radiating off Patton, and he couldn’t help the bubbling, hysterical laughter that boiled up out of him, quickly becoming broken sobs as he doubled over, the relief crashing over him like a tidal wave, drowning him. Patton’s head whipped to him, and he immediately let up the man he’d pounced upon, in favor of tending to Virgil.

He heard the soft tap of Patton’s paws padding over to him, felt the soft fur against his curled up form, and he instantly latched onto it, clinging to the soft fur of Patton’s chest, feeling Patton tuck his head over his shoulder, the vibration of his purrs so strong they resonated in his bones, feeling Patton curl himself around him as much as he could in their awkward position, though he didn’t care enough to move to something more comfortable. 

“p… pat… I’m s-so sorry, I’m s-s-sorry, I…I…” 

“Shh, it’s ok, kiddo. It’s ok. It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I must’ve, I m-must’ve, otherwise w-why… why would he… Patton, why would he do this? Why…” 

“I don’t know, kitten. I don’t know, but I’m going to teach him a lesson, the next time we see him, I will never let him or anyone else hurt you like that ever again, I swear to Laidon, I will claw him to pieces.” That got a small, choked laugh out of Virgil, whose sobs were starting to die down into sniffles, before he finally pulled away just a bit, just enough to look up at Patton’s face, who chuffed, pressing his head against Virgil’s, purring louder as he felt his hands on his cheeks, gently pressing him closer. He could feel Virgil starting to calm, starting to be soothed by his presence, he felt the same sense of peace and rightness settling into his own chest, as he pulled back, licking Virgil’s nose on the way, making him laugh. His hackles rose as he took his first good look at his kitten, circling him to asses his injuries, tail lashing at the state of his back, he’d known it was bad, but he’d barely been aware for most of it, incapacitated by whatever drugs had been slipped to Virgil, leaving them both too weak to defend themselves. His piercing blue eyes locked onto the two men across the room, growling lowly as the one he’d knocked aside took a step closer, standing threateningly behind Virgil, ready to lash out at any moment. 

“Virgil. I apologize for the added distress, but the only way to break through the binding spell was to overload it. It… took quite a lot of power.” 

“It nearly killed him.” Patton growled. 

“He was dying anyway. With you split from each other, neither of you would have been able to survive for much longer without the other.” His Patton was going to say something else, no doubt, but Virgil shook his head.

“S worth it, Pat. I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep going. I couldn’t.” He whispered, arms wrapping around himself, a shiver running up his spine. Patton huffed, nudging him gently. 

“you need to sleep. To bed, with you.” Patton nudged him again, Virgil leaning on him as he stumbled back into the bed, settling on his side and curling up tight. Patton leapt up easily after him, curling up around him, so his head was near Virgil’s, his body wrapped around him, his tail touching his nose. Instantly, Virgil shifted closer, so his face was pressed against Patton’s belly, gently clinging onto his fur, as if he might vanish at any moment. Despite the pain in his heart at seeing his kitten so hurt, Patton purred, letting it soothe him, knowing that it also helped speed up healing. 

He could feel Virgil’s heartbeat against his chest, his soft exhale against his fur, as his breathing deepened and he slipped to sleep, a deep, restful sleep. He didn’t know much of anything that had happened, after the curse took effect, it locked him away in the dark, where there was nothing but himself and the emptiness, and he hated, hated that his kiddo had gone through all this alone, had gotten so hurt, on his own. He should have been there, to protect him. 

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t either of their faults, neither of them could ever have expected… could ever have thought… 

He nuzzled gently against Virgil’s hair, exhaling deeply, trying to keep his own emotions in check. If he got too out of sorts, it would bleed over to Virgil’s sleep, and his kitten needed all the rest he could get. He could get filled in later, from Virgil. For now, he had other things to deal with. 

He turned his gaze back on the two men, wary but no longer in attack mode. Virgil hadn’t been upset or alarmed by their presence, and he hadn’t been afraid of them, which eased his worry of imminent danger. 

“Who are you?” He asked, voice more tired than he wished it was, though he couldn’t summon the energy to care. 

“I am Logan Dierdric, Raiki’s representative to Visalia and assistant to Prince Remus.” The one who had spoken before. His hackles rose slightly, already guessing who the other must be. 

“Prince Remus, heir to Visalia, at your service.” Logan noted how the panther tensed, the tip of his tail just barely twitching, his eyes never straying from Remus. Remus didn’t break his eye contact either, however. Instead, he slowly blinked once, and Logan was surprised to hear a soft laugh from Patton. 

“That is a housecat move. But I appreciate the effort. He’s… safe?” Patton asked hesitantly, and Remus stepped forwards to answer. 

“You both are. We don’t intend to harm either of you. As far as we can tell, no one knows where you are, the last rumors we could dig up put you near the Raikian border. He should be physically fine with time and rest. The wounds on his back are… severe. I did the best I could to heal them up, but they were the conduit for the magic binding your power and his. Breaking the binding purged the active magic from him, but there’s still… residue, I guess, you could call it, that makes any magic hard to stick to that area, almost makes it slippery, to other magic. I managed to close up the worst of them and get rid of any infection, but for the most part, it’ll have to heal naturally, on its own. It’ll take time. It will scar. But he will be ok. At least physically.” After a long moment, Patton sighed, resting his head back on his paws. 

“oh, kiddo. My sweet little kitten. You’re going to be alright.” Patton murmured, more to reassure himself than for anyone else’s benefit, turning his attention back to Logan and Remus after a moment. “thank you, for helping him.” 

“Of course. What else would we have done?” Logan asked, and Patton’s eyes darkened for a moment. 

“His kingdom is at war with both of yours. He is hurt and weak and was unable to shift and I was trapped. You could have done whatever you wanted with him to get whatever you wanted from him, made an example of enemies of the state and executed him. Or worse, you could have tried to ransom him back. You had no reason, to be kind or to help. But you did.” 

“Back up a sec, why would sending him home be bad? His people have been looking all over for him. Begged us for any info we had, we even got communication offering a truce, if we had him and traded him back.” Remus asked, Patton involuntarily hissing, anxiously kneading the blanket. 

“Because his brother is the one who did this to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh DUn DUUUUUNNNN


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton sheds some light on the situation.

Remus and Logan exchanged horrified glances, unable to even form words from the strength of the shock. 

“what… why…” Logan stuttered, and Patton took a moment, to steady himself against the half memories. 

“you don’t know much about our home, do you?” Patton asked softly, and slowly, they shook their heads. 

“I… suppose not. Any information we have is clouded, and comes through second and third hand sources. It is ridiculously hard to get anyone through the defenses of Liotta.” Logan answered, pulling up a chair, Remus opting to pace instead, Patton’s eyes following him a bit uneasily. 

“Virgil is the crown prince. But he’s not the oldest. His brother Roman is ruling in his stead, until he comes of age and can take the throne. He was just ten, when his father passed, and Roman was already 19, so it only made sense. Things were fine, for a while, Roman was always kind to him, if a little distant and distracted. But that distance kept growing, and the closer it got to Virgil’s coronation, the more that distance changed into something deeper. 

I knew he was jealous, upset, angry. In any other circumstances, the crown would have naturally gone to Roman, because he was the oldest. He was being groomed for it, before Virgil came along, their parents were both older, they didn’t expect any more children, so Virgil… was a blessing. And his birthmark showed he was a Camolione. It’s not a gift many of Liottans are born with, and those that are, are seen as special, blessed. So his father changed the line of succession and named Virgil his heir, taking away what had until that moment been Roman’s birthright. 

I didn’t think he would go this far. I didn’t ever think he was this cruel, this cold, this… this… monstrous. He was always soft, to Virgil, when they interacted. He was never mean or hurtful to his face.” 

“What about the war?” Remus asked, stopping, looking at Patton, who’s ears flicked at the mention of it. 

“We… didn’t, don’t, support it. We were going to start peace talks. His father started it, and we never understood why, never saw the point. It’s better to make friends and talk out problems than send all those people to die for nothing. I suppose that’s another reason for Roman to want us gone. He thrives on it, and if Virgil were crowned, Roman would be placed in charge of the armies, the lead general, but to him there’s no point unless there’s a war. Simply defending the people isn’t enough, he wants to rule everything. He loves to battle. He was always trying to convince Virgil to come train. He has basic skills, of course, but he’s not trained in sword play and tactics like Roman is. I taught him wilderness survival, but I’m… I’m amazed he managed to get away.” Logan let out a long breath, steepling his hands and clearly thinking intently.

“So. We cannot let anyone know that he is here, otherwise it will get back to Roman, who will take advantage of the role he is playing as the worried, vengeance seeking brother. At this point he’s no doubt choosing to mislead the people into believing Virgil has been kidnapped by one or both of our forces, rallying them against us to continue his war, probably assuming Virgil perished.” 

“He’s shy, quiet, but they loved him. He would go to the village often, just to wander, to visit the market. I would play with the kiddos, let them ride me, and Virgil would smile, sometimes laugh, it lights up the world when he does that. He hasn’t had enough reason to laugh, my kitten.” Patton murmured, resting his head above Virgil’s, nuzzling his hair. “If they knew the truth of things, they wouldn’t stand by Roman. But I’m not sure that would be enough, on its own, to change anything.” 

“Still, that’s something of a buffer. Even if Roman discovers he’s here, we can make it public. That will prevent him from doing anything outright harmful. We can use our position as a further buffer, pretending to engage in ransom negotiations, though we will not be returning him to his brother’s custody, under any circumstances.” 

“Ok, so we just need to hide the kid and a giant panther until we can somehow stage a coupe in the mysterious country we have no information about when our forces are spread thin as it is.” Remus put in. “Sounds like a fun time!” 

“He is already in your private wing. He is not going to be noticed here. And Patton can dematerialize when necessary. No one will recognize who Virgil is, no one here even knows what he looks like. As long as the birthmark is covered, his identity is a secret, and even then, he could just be a rogue Liottan. Logan answered, not even bothering to rise to Remus’s excited bait. 

“Let’s go, specs.” Remus said abruptly, startling Logan. 

“What? I have more questions-“ 

“You always have more questions, Logan. But they’re exhausted. Let them get some rest, you’ll have to be back in here soon, to check on the bandages, change them. Give them some time, Lo.” Logan looked up from his contemplations, frowning slightly. He didn’t know much about big cat body language, but Patton’s certainly indicated stress and tiredness, his muscles were still tensed, eyes flicking between the two of them, even though his head was tucked on his paws, encircling Virgil so completely they couldn’t even see him past Patton’s size. 

“I apologize for my rudeness. We’ll leave you be, for the moment. This hallway is not directly guarded, and the ones stationed here are wholly trustworthy. If you need anything, or something about his condition changes, we will be across the hall, in case you need our assistance. Do you need anything at the moment?” Logan asked softly, and Patton shook his head, kneading his paws. 

“Alright. Try and get some rest, kitty cat. See you in a bit.” Remus added, smiling tentatively at Patton, who flicked his ears in acknowledgment, before blinking at him slowly, once, getting a grin in return, as he tugged Logan out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Virgil got taken to begin with.

He jolted awake, heart pounding, panic pulsing through him at his unfamiliar surroundings, it took him a long moment to realize that the dark around him was Patton, Patton, Patton! 

Instantly, Patton’s ears twitched and his head lifted, turning to look at Virgil, picking up on his distress, and his unintentional calls, through his sleep. Virgil could feel the soft inquisitiveness and gentle warmth Patton was sending his way, could feel him in his head, in his soul, the space that had been so empty, too frigidly silent, was full and warm again, filled with his Spirit, his Patton, his best friend. 

“You’re really… really here, really real…” He whispered, reaching out almost hesitantly, resting a hand atop Patton’s shoulder, feeling him breath, his soft purr at the touch, his soft concern and fond affection radiating through their bond, warming Virgil from the inside out. 

‘I’m here, kitten.’ Patton thought to him, and then he was crying again, arms wrapped around Patton’s back, face buried against his shoulder, still half waiting, half expecting, the backlash of magic, his brother’s magic. 

He remembered his brother showing off for him, when he was younger. He’d create fireworks that exploded into marvelous pictures, that outshone the stars, he’d helped heal his scrapes and scratches he got from climbing trees, his magic had always felt warm, like a sunset on a perfect spring day, he hadn’t known it could feel as cold and bleak as it had when Patton had been ripped away from him. He hadn’t known his brother could be that cold. He didn’t understand, he didn’t understand what he’d done, to make Roman hate him so, there must be something, there must be a reason, otherwise… otherwise Roman had been this person all along, all his kindness had been a lie, all the warmth an illusion to lure him in, all waiting and planning and setting up the moment, so he’d never suspect. 

He’d been so excited, when Roman had come to his room. He hadn’t been with his brother one on one for longer than he could remember. Roman had snuck away from his guard, from his lessons, to sneak him away from his, to go on a picnic together. 

Patton hadn’t come out, they’d agreed it would be too noticeable, would immediately identify him, at least, as one of the princes, and they were trying to keep a low profile, after all. Patton had been pleased as well, because Virgil was happy and excited, two things he rarely was these days. 

They’d snuck out through the secret passages, Roman leading the way, until they made it outside the castle walls, into the fields for grazing animals, setting up on the edge of a small wood, watching the cows wander, exchanging small talk as Roman pulled out the food, all of which was Virgil’s favorites. 

The next thing he knew, he felt funny, the world blurred around him as his head spun. He could feel Patton panicking, but he couldn’t seem to manifest, just as disoriented as Virgil himself, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the overwhelming vertigo that had him fisting his hands into the grass, before his muscles gave out and he slumped to the ground, heart racing and breath speeding, colors mixing and blending until he couldn’t tell if his eyes were even open or closed. 

The last thing he was aware of, was a gentle stroke of his forehead, tucking his hair back behind his ear. Then the world went dark. 

And the next time he woke, it was to that cold dungeon, that cold room, shackled to that cold table, Patton being ripped from his heart, the cursed spell being carved into his back, by Roman, his brother, Roman. 

Who had done all of that to him, then ordered his men to drag him out to the woods and murder him. 

“Oh, kitten, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” Patton rumbled, licking his forehead from where he was laying atop the big cat, face still buried against him, he hadn’t realized he’d projected all that, it was strange, he kept forgetting Patton was there in his head again, could feel what he thought and felt. He’d missed him, missed him so terribly much, and he could feel Patton felt the same, felt guilty, even, because he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to help him, to protect him, to even see or know what was going on around them. 

He’d been trapped, too, after all. Chains locking him in place, wrapped around his paws and chest, muzzled and caged deep in the dark, where there was nothing, no light, no sound, not the slightest sense of the world, just a deafening, maddening, void that he desperately tried to climb and claw and scream his way out of, only getting the briefest, weakest glimpses of his kitten, blacking out for… days? Weeks? Each time Virgil somehow managed to bypass the curse, scared or desperate enough he managed to reach through despite the pain, the effort backfiring against him, the chains electrifying, burning and shocking against him, until he gave into the darkness completely. 

He slipped a little deeper, each time. A little further from the space where Virgil, however briefly, could reach him. A little closer to losing what was left of his own mind and sense of self, a little closer to madness, a little closer to simply succumbing entirely to the void. The harder he clung to awareness, the faster it seemed to flee, and he knew Remus had been right. Soon, there wouldn’t have been anything of either of them left. 

He looked up at a soft knock on the door, watching it creak open just a tad, Remus poking his head in. 

“sorry, am I interrupting?” He asked softly, taking in Virgil using Patton as a mattress, not looking up at his soft words. 

“not really. Just reminiscing on our shitty time locked apart and comparing traumas.” 

“Language.” Patton mumbled in reply, making Virgil snort. 

“Well, I do hate to interrupt that joy ride down memory lane, but I should check on your back and change the bandages.” Virgil winced, letting out a long breath. With everything else, he’d almost forgotten about the pounding, steady thrum of pain emenating down his spine. It was duller than it had been in ages, but it still ached sharply, and at the reminder it seemed to flare up more, just to spite him. 

“how… how bad is it?” Virgil asked, realizing he was wearing a loose robe, it was fluffy and warm, and he wouldn’t have to lift his arms up to get it off. Even thinking of lifting his arms above his head made him wince. 

“It’s… I healed what I could, but there wasn’t much I could do.” Remus answered, and he exhaled shakily. 

“so, really bad. Great. That’s… fine, it’s fine, of course it is, my brother just t-tortured me so badly his magic is s-s-still imprinted on me, and the markings are still there, so he could just recast it no problem if he finds m-me and then I’d l-lose Patton all over again, he k-knows I got away and probably thinks I died, but he’ll st-still be l-looking and I d-don’t understand wh-what I did!” He’d curled up again, head on his knees, trying to listen to Patton’s counting, trying to breathe. 

“Virgil, kid, look at me.” Remus said, tilting his head up, making him meet his eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Your brother is the one whose done wrong, doing this to you. It’s greed and jealousy, and overgrown bitterness.” 

“I didn’t even w-want it. I didn’t want to be in charge, I didn’t want to run the country, I didn’t w-want to be k-k-king!” 

“Virgil…” Remus trailed off, carefully slow as he reached out. The kid still flinched at his touch, but relaxed after a moment, as he guided Virgil’s hand to his own chest, over his heart. He started softly counting, a smooth, steady sound, and slowly Virgil’s breath started to even. “There we go. You back with me, Virgil?” Virgil nodded, drawing his hand back, leaning back against Patton, who nuzzled his cheek. “It is not your fault. I promise.” Remus said again. Virgil bit his cheek, but slowly nodded once. 

“ok.” He whispered, wincing as he shifted, unable to help the small gasp that escaped his lips. Remus winced in sympathy, tutting softly. 

“Here. Let’s get the robe off, ok? Then I’ll start unwrapping the bandages.” Virgil nodded, letting him slide the robe off, and Remus frowned at the dull red seeping through. “Alright. This isn’t going to be pleasant, but I promise I’ll be as gentle as I can. If it gets to be too much, we can take a break, alright? Once I get them off, you can lay down, at least.” Virgil nodded again, taking a deep breath in and out. Patton shifted so that he was sitting before Virgil, resting his forehead against the kid’s, purring softly. 

“Alright. Ready?” Virgil took another shaking breath and nodded, hands coming up to rest in Patton’s fur. 

He winced in sympathy as he started peeling off the bandages, the kid hissing sharply, his hands fisting into Patton’s fur, breathing harsh. He could feel the bandages sticking to the wounds as he removed them, pulling off some of the old and cracked scabs. He was halfway down the back when he realized the kid was whispering something to himself. He listened closer, unable to understand the language, but it sounded familiar, and it sounded well rehearsed. Some kind of prayer. 

“You need a break?” He asked gently, still making the kid jump slightly. 

“N-no. J-just finish it.” He gritted out, and Remus nodded. 

“Alright. Just a few more, you’re doing so good.” He murmured back. 

Finally, they were all off. It still looked like a war torn ravaged land, but it was better. Not by much, but it was. None of the wounds had the angry inflamed look they had when they’d first treated them, no other infection had set in, and the healing was going at a steady, if slow, rate. 

“It looks good back here, Virgil. Everything’s healing. You’ll be alright.” He said, a bit of relief in his own voice, as he helped Virgil lay down on his stomach, Patton curling around his front, Virgil resting his head and arms on Patton’s back. “I’m going to take a washcloth and clean this up a bit. I’ll be gentle, but it might still sting a bit.” Virgil nodded once more, closing his eyes, tensed in anticipation. 

The sight made his heart clench. No child should ever be this hurt, this afraid of being hurt, especially not by a member of their own family, their own brother. It was worse that he wasn’t angry or furious, he was just… resigned, to the pain. Thought it was his fault, he deserved it, somehow. That was enough to make Remus’s blood boil, though he reigned it in. No use being angry now, that would only scare Virgil. He’d get it out of his system later, smash something with his Morningstar.

He shook off the thoughts, and wrung out the washcloth, gently working it over the damage, getting off the crusted blood, being careful and gentle, and despite himself, Virgil found himself slipping asleep. 

It didn’t hurt, this part. It was mostly warm and nice, and it felt good, getting everything off his back, and slowly his tensed muscles began to relax as he started to drift, no matter how hard he fought it. 

‘go to sleep. I’m right here. You’re safe, kitten.’ Patton thought his way, with an added blip of warmth and sleepiness for good measure. Virgil burrowed deeper into his fur with a half hearted scowl. 

‘cheater.’ He thought back, feeling Patton’s soft amusement. 

‘love you too, kitten. Now hush.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Remus talk.

Remus had been so diligent in his work, he hadn’t even realized Virgil had slipped asleep but Patton hadn’t, and that Patton’s sole focus was now on him. 

His movements were steady, practiced, though Patton could see how careful he was being, how soft and gentle every movement was, his brow creased in focus. 

“oh, buddy.” Remus sighed, dipping the washcloth back into the water and ringing it out, pausing to gently run a hand through Virgil’s hair, scratching softly at his scalp. Patton’s whiskers twitched as he felt the surge of contentedness the motion elicited from his kiddo, even in his sleep. “We’ll find a way to fix all this. Make everything ok again. Somehow, we’ll do it.” Remus murmured, looking at Virgil with so much warmth and sympathy it melted Patton’s heart. Even if he’d doubted it before, he was sure Remus had been telling the truth now. It was clear Remus meant it when he said he’d keep Virgil safe. “you’re a brave little thing, you know that? You fought so hard, all by yourself. And you were still willing to step in to try and help a stranger you didn’t even know. I don’t know if I would have done the same. I don’t think I would have made it this far, honestly.” Remus’s tongue stuck out a bit as he dabbed at a particularly sticky spot, still gentle enough Virgil didn’t even stir. “and you did all that exhausted, more than half starved, half dead, even. You’re a good kid. I hope you know that. I’m sure you don’t believe it, but you are. I wish I could meet this brother of yours, just so I could punch him in the face. I’m sure Logan would love a go at him as well. Come hell and high water, he’s not getting past us, kid. I swear to every god imaginable, he’s never getting past us.” 

Patton watched as he set the washcloth aside, grabbing a dry towel, carefully dabbing his back dry. The wounds certainly did look better. 

“I’ll leave these unwrapped for a bit, ok? They need to breathe a bit, give them some time to form solid scabs, now that they aren’t bleeding anymore. We’ll put some healing salve on them before we rebandage them, that’ll help them heal up smoother, and help with the pain.” He went back to running his hands through Virgil’s hair, slowly working at untangling it. It was longer than Patton remembered by a couple inches, and it made his heart hurt. He’d lost so much time, with his kiddo, at a time when Virgil needed him most. “We’ll have to get some food into you, the next you’re awake. You’d need it anyway, but you’re using so much energy, trying to heal right now. It’s no wonder you’re exhausted. Some soup, probably, that’s what Logan would say, something simple to not upset your stomach. I suppose I see his point, but I prefer jumping all in. Maybe some chile peppers in brownies, with cinnamon ice cream. I should try that sometime, actually, that’s not a bad idea.” He mused, attention finally turning to Patton as he chuffed, unable to hold back his small laugh. 

“Oh! You’re… still awake. Um. I’ll just, stop, this, then, and-“ 

“you don’t have to. I don’t mind, he certainly doesn’t. It’s helping him sleep. Keeping… keeping the nightmares away.” Patton answered, cutting off Remus’s nervous ramble. Remus still hesitated, looking at him as if for permission. “I’m not going to bite your hand off, Remus. You’re helping him, you’re allowed to touch him.” He finished, kneading his paws a couple times, laying his head down atop them, though his eyes still watched Remus, as he hesitantly went back to running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, shifting around so he was sitting on the side of the bed instead of leaning over his back. Patton smiled as another wave of sleepy calmness washed through Virgil as the motion resumed, his kiddo’s breath deepening and evening out, the last of the tension washing out of his body.

“He doesn’t get a lot of sleep, does he? Even before this, I mean.” He said softly.

“No. He doesn’t. I always tried to get him to go to bed earlier, to help ground him, but he was always so worried, so wound up. The night and darkness seemed to draw out his fears the most. The night guards were used to us, wandering the halls at odd hours. I wish it was something less extreme than this, that finally got him to sleep.” There was a pause, silence, and Patton could feel Remus thinking about asking something, unsure if he should or could, before he finally sighed. 

“And how are you, doing?” Patton’s mind sputtered out, confusion racing through him at the question, tail twitching nervously. “You… it couldn’t have been easy for you, either. You may not be physically hurt like he is, but that isn’t the only kind of hurt. I’m sure whatever you went through wasn’t pleasant, either.” 

No. It hadn’t been. It had been dark and numb and terrifying, and though they didn’t leave scars, he could still feel the ghost of burning, red hot, chains, squeezing him tight and the muzzle over his face as he screamed and thrashed and fought, trying to feel anything, see anything, through the void that was his entire existence, until he almost thought he was simply a part of it, simply a figment of imagination summoned by the nothingness, like he hadn’t ever been real or alive to begin with. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he could be back there, in the dark. He was afraid when he opened his eyes once more, there wouldn’t be the room, or the light, or his kiddo, just the empty nothing. 

Not to mention the guilt. He should have done something, should have fought harder, should have been there, should have protected Virgil, that was his entire job, was to guide and protect Virgil, his kiddo, his kitten, and he’d failed. He’d failed miserably, left his kiddo all alone, nearly lost him completely, and it was his fault for not being more on guard. 

“You shouldn’t worry about me. He matters more.” He answered softly, shaking his head to clear it, though his hackles were still up. 

“Patton. You matter just as much as him. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But you’ve both been through something traumatic. Don’t discount your experience just because you think his was worse. You didn’t deserve it, either. It wasn’t your fault, either. Try and remember that.” He swallowed hard, feeling as if Remus had just somehow seen right through him, to his soul, his deepest, darkest thoughts. 

“I’ll… I will try.” He met Remus’s eyes, who smiled softly, then slowly reached out and scratched his head, behind his ears, chuckling at the deep hum the action elicited, Patton pushing his head further into his hand, rubbing against it. 

“You are just a big kitty cat, aren’t you?” He laughed as Patton mrphed in displeasure, sticking his tongue out at him. He shook his head as he stood, a soft, fond smile on his lips. 

“I’ll leave you two to get some rest. One of us’ll be in to check on you guys in a bit. If he’s awake by then, we’ll help rebandage that. If either of you need anything before that, though, one of us will be right across the hall. No matter what it is, don’t hesitate to ask, you won’t be disturbing anything. Alright?” He asked, waiting until Patton nodded, before slipping towards the door. 

“Remus? I… thank you. For… caring.” Patton murmured. He smiled back, giving a small nod, before letting the door quietly slip closed. He let out a long breath, leaning against the wall outside for a moment, to get his bearings. He was interrupted by a guard rushing down the hall, quickly but quietly. Clearly Logan had taken care to tell the guards something of what was going on, though certainly not everything. 

“Sir. An intruder has been caught attempting to break into the Royal Wing.” He raised a brow. A break in itself was uncommon, as most of the castle was easily accessible to almost anyone, and people were only stopped it they were acting suspicious or the guards with magic detected something amiss. Otherwise, people were free to come and go. However, the upper floors were reserved for noble’s rooms, restricted libraries, the mages work spaces, and other need to know rooms or areas. These floors were guarded, and only certain people had the clearance necessary to access them, and they all were known to the guard. The Royal Wing was the top floor, to get there meant you had to have snuck past the lower floor guards without raising their suspicions, then, somehow, slipped past the two guards stationed at every staircase to the upper level, and the guards stationed at the end of most hallways, then make it past or at least up to the Royal Guard, which were the most elite in both fighting with almost every weapon in almost any condition imaginable, not mention highly trained in magical detections and both defensive and offensive spells.   
Whoever it was had skill, determination, and grit, to make it this far before getting caught.

While it was odd, it wasn’t necessarily something he needed to be informed about this urgently, especially since it seemed the person hadn’t reached their goal, being stopped before they could gain access to the Royal Wing. But the guard seemed nervous, gaze flicking to the door Remus was standing in front of, the one that contained the young sleeping prince and his panther. 

“Yes, and?” He asked sharply, regaining the guard’s attention. 

“He put up quite a fight. And… and he’s demanding to see Prince Virgil. Says he knows he’s here and we have him, and he won’t stop raising a ruckus or trying to fight. He’s put two of the guards out of commission already. Nothing deadly, he seems to be delibritley avoiding causing lasting harm, but his choice of spells are… irritating.” Well, that certainly peaked his interest. 

“Understood. Allow me to inform Logan of the situation, and he will deal with it accordingly.” Logan was more suited for this situation. The man was uncannily good at extracting information without his target even realizing they were giving anything away. He also seemed to be able to spot half truths, lies, and discrepencies in a story from miles away, leaving the most experienced of thieves and con men absolutely tongue tied and tripping over themselves after barely two minutes of conversation. It was an absolute treat to watch him unravel their stories by using their own words against them. 

He only hoped this newcomer wouldn’t screw them over too badly. If he didn’t stop screaming Virgil’s presence from the rooftops, they might be in bigger trouble sooner than they were ready for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new character? Who could ever be??????


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus. That's all I really need to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post the next chapter, i wrote a lot today, so I didn't want to keep y'all in suspense.

He cursed his luck. Or rather, lack of it. 

It hadn’t been lack of skill, of that he was certain. 

He’d made it all the way to the door of the top floor, after all, made it past the door. It was pure bad luck that a guard happened to be relieving another of his post and had spotted him. 

There was no excuse for him to be on that level. The lower levels, even the restricted lower levels, he could pass as a lost page boy, easily, but up here? No, that wouldn’t fly. 

So he’d resorted to fighting. 

He knew he’d lose, after all, there were far more guards, that had already been alerted, than he could handle, but he didn’t have a choice. For one, he wasn’t going down without a fight, not when he didn’t know what, exactly, they would do to him, do to get him to talk. And two, he knew Virgil was here, knew they had him, somewhere on this top floor, he was so close. 

So he bared his teeth, bared his magic, and fought like Virgil’s life depended on it, because it very well might, and god’s know his own didn’t matter.

And now he was here. Hands shackled behind him with cuffs that dampened his magic to unusable levels. They’d searched him, of course, not that he’d brought any weapons to the castle. They would have picked him out in a second flat if he had, no, he’d relied on stealth and surprise, and they had failed him. 

Well, it wouldn’t fail him now. 

They’d shackled him, yes, but the chains had some give, they weren’t directly connected to the wall. He sat, leaning sideways as far as he could, reaching as much as he could, biting past the pain as his hands managed to reach his head. 

He quickly finagled the small hair clip loose from his brown curls. From there, it was simple to pick the lock, really. It was clear they’d assumed he’d used solely his magic to mask his presence and his youth to earn sympathy and sneak higher. Jokes on them, he supposed, or whoever came into the room next, as he got the second cuff off. 

He stayed sitting, though, making no move, simply breathing evenly, practicing his meditation, clearing his mind. 

It would be a higher up, perhaps the captain of the guard, perhaps the captain of the Royal Guard, because of how far he’d made it, and they would be thrown off by his smaller stature and surprisingly young age, not to mention his speed, and he might be able to pull this off, to at least get out of here alive.

Then somehow, by the grace of Rikash, he might get the prince out of this alive. 

There was talking outside the door, low voices, he couldn’t make out the words. That didn’t matter. He was ready. 

The door opened, a man walked in, and he pounced. 

He slung his power like a whip, snarling as he lashed out, surprised when the man blocked it easily, though clearly caught off guard, enough at least that his second attack hit, a clumsy thrust of power straight at his chest, that sent him crashing back into the wall. 

The man was back on his feet instantly, eyes flashing and he felt power try and wrap around him, grinning as he shook it off as easily as a dog shakes off water. He rolled as the man struck out, barely dodging his fist, surprised as a hand snatched his arm, twisting his wrist behind his back. He hissed at the pain, but used the hold as leverage, shifting his weight suddenly and throwing the man over his shoulder and onto the floor before him, knocking the wind out of him. 

Instantly, he saw the perfect opportunity. 

He flew forwards before the man could even blink, clicking the shackles onto his wrists, throwing a spell at the door to muffle and ward it. He’d know if anyone was coming, and the man hadn’t stationed a guard outside, so they had gone back to their post. His mistake, really. If this man was the one they’d sent to interrogate him, no one would look for him for hours. 

“Where. Is. Virgil.” He snarled, standing above the man, eyes flashing gold. He imagined he didn’t cut the most imposing figure, but the fury and vengeance in his eyes was enough to stop any man cold in his tracks. 

The man on the ground simply looked… flabbergasted, as he sat up, examining the shackles that now bound his wrists in front of him. 

“Well. Remus is going to have a laugh at my expense later.” The man mumbled. His eyes flashed green again, and he didn’t have time to react this time, as the man leapt to his feet and slammed him back against the wall, the chains snaking around him so they encircled his entire body, pinning his arms to his sides. He gasped as they wrapped around his neck, starting to shake. 

Other chains. 

Other chains, another place, a world away. Hot sand biting into his skin, his feet wrapped in dirty cloth, the soles leaking red, so bright his eyes burned and he couldn’t see, and a collar around his neck jerking sharply, forcing him into motion though his whole body screams in protest, but if he stops, if he falls, they’ll drag him across the sand for a good long time before throwing him on the back of a camel, then punishing him for it later. If he falls, he won’t be able to get back up, with the bindings around his wrists. 

He gasped as the contact suddenly vanished, metal clanking to the floor, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping in air like a drowning man, no matter how much he gulped in it didn’t seem to be enough. He was aware his arms were wrapped tight around himself, he was shaking, shaking so hard he couldn’t see straight, he could still taste the grit in his mouth, the dry air burning his skin. 

He jolted back at touch against his arm, realizing he’d inadvertently trapped himself in the corner of the room. He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t look up and face whatever was going to happen to him now. He’d failed. He’d failed in every way, he wasn’t getting out of here, Virgil wasn’t getting out of here, they were both going to be used or ransomed or killed and there was no way out. 

“I’m sorry.” He jolted again at those words, jerking his eyes up to meet the man’s for just a moment before darting away again. “I… didn’t mean to cause you that much distress. My name is Logan. I am advisor and aide to Prince Remus. You came looking for Prince Virgil. I would like to know why you think he is here, and who sent you.” He shook his head. No. He wouldn’t tell them anything, nothing they could use, not against Virgil. 

“Did Roman send you?” He flinched at the question, head smacking the wall, the harsh, emphatic ‘no’ dying on his lips as he realized his response answered the question for him. He bit his lip and glowered at the ground instead. 

“No. No, he didn’t. So he doesn’t know, Virgil is here.” He refused to acknowledge the words, not moving a muscle in response, using all his practice to keep his breathing even, his heart rate normal, his face blank. “And the way you responded to his name implies you at the very least dislike him, at the worst are afraid of him, and possibly know something, something that would put you in danger were he to know you knew. Your response also shows that you must be from their kingdom, otherwise you’d have no reason to fear him so. You’re close enough to the prince that you know him personally and have interacted with his brother.” He still didn’t react at all, staring blankly at the ground, though he was finding it hard to stave off the fear, now. He didn’t understand how this person was getting so much from so little. “So you are an ally of Virgil’s, and loyal to him exclusively, not the kingdom itself. Loyal enough and determined enough you somehow managed to track him here, and discover he is in the palace, when no one outside me, Remus, and a very few guards know. So how did you come about this information?” Not a word, he wouldn’t speak a word. 

“would you like to see him?” His head jolted up at those words, eyes locking on the man’s, Logan’s, reading nothing but sincerity. “Perhaps we can make a truce. I will escort you to see Virgil. You will cease any attempts to escape or cause harm to me or the guards, at least until you have a conversation with Virgil. Is this acceptable?” Logan asked, and he narrowed his eyes. 

It felt like a trap. It must be, somehow, but applying even a fraction of his magic allowed him to see he was sincere in his words, there must be some twist to them he was missing, something. 

Still, if it would at least get him in the same room as Virgil, he would have a chance. That’s all he needed, a chance. So despite his misgivings, he gave a sharp nod, wincing as Logan stood, the chains shifting and clanking across the ground, breath catching once more. 

“I will not be using those again. They only put them on because they were afraid you would hurt someone seriously.” That wasn’t his goal, but he just pressed his lips together harder, pushing himself to his feet, ignoring the hand Logan extended towards him. He glared harder as Logan took off his jacket and handed it to him, no doubt noticing his continued shaking. 

Despite himself, he pulled it around his shoulders, the long coat nearly drowning him, but it was warm, and it made him feel a bit more obscured, as he followed a half step behind Logan, past the guards, eyes locked firmly on the ground, feeling their hot stares as he passed. 

His chest was tight. He was struggling to keep his thoughts under control, to keep his mind from spiralling, with every step he was becoming more convinced he was simply being led to his death. It felt like they’d been walking forever, going up and up and up stairs, weaving through hallways, until they reached a hall, and his head shot up, freezing in place.

There.

Clear as day, the sense that had been muffled before, dim, only giving him a clue of what floor he was on, became crystal. But he had to be sure. 

‘Virgil?’ he felt the response immediately, shock, surprise, hope. He let out a strangled breath as he felt Patton reply, as well, with his own wash of fatherly concern. ‘is it safe? Are you?’ he asked. 

‘yes. We’re… alright.’ His displeasure at the answer must have bled through to Virgil, because he felt soft reassurance. ‘they’re safe. Helped. Was hurt, not by them.’ Well, that’s enough to reassure him, for now, at least, though the exhaustion rolling off of Virgil had him worried. 

“Are you alright?” He jolted at Logan’s voice, his eyes crinkled with concern. Good, that meant he couldn’t tell they’d been communicating, so Virgil hadn’t been coerced into saying he was safe. He nodded, careful to keep his steps even, to let Logan lead him, so it wouldn’t be obvious he already knew where he was going, trembling increasing as Logan opened a door, and before he could help himself, he bolted inside, on the bed and examining Virgil before Logan could even blink.

He made a small, pained noise, at the state of Virgil, his injuries, though he looked better, the ever present dark circles under his eyes a bit lighter than usual, though he was too thin, his ribs countable through his clothes, his face bruised, his entire back was wrapped in bandages, and he could only imagine what damage they hid. 

Slowly, he reached out, brushing a hand over Virgil’s hair, his cheek, and then Virgil was laughing, and crying, and pressing their foreheads together, and then he was crying, too, cupping Virgil’s cheeks, eyes roving his face. 

‘Roman.’ He directed, not a question, a statement, but Virgil’s eyes darkening was all it took to know he was right. ‘I knew something wasn’t right. As soon as you vanished, I knew. I looked, I searched everywhere, I snuck in and heard Roman say… say he got rid of you. But I knew you weren’t gone. I could tell you weren’t gone.’ 

He swayed, hissing slightly at the wash of vertigo that swept over him. Now that he was here, now that he’d found Virgil, and knew he was safe, all the fight and determination was draining out of him, the fire that had kept him moving, endlessly moving, was dimming to embers. 

“Janus.” He startled at his name, said out loud, looking up into Virgil’s eyes once more, warm and concerned. “When did you last sleep?” When? That was a good question. 

“Don’t know. Had to find you. Had to…” He gasped, Virgil’s arms wrapping around him, keeping him steady. “It was weak. The pull was so weak, it was so… I thought you were dying. I thought you were dying, scared and alone and I had to find you, if it killed me, I had to find you, but it took so much…” 

“No, Janus-“ 

“I owe you my life. You are my prince. I would not, never, stop until I found you. I mean nothing, compared to you, I would keep going even if it drained me dry.” 

“But you mean everything to me, Janus. I will not let you forget that.” Virgil brushed back his hair, smiling as he felt the small pieces of metal hidden in it. “you caused trouble, didn’t you?” 

“Obviously. I assumed you were being held hostage at best, tortured at worst.” Virgil’s smile dimmed, his eyes serious once more. 

“they won’t do that to you. They won’t hurt you.” He looked away, with a frown. 

‘He saw me shake off his magic. Felt me use my own. He seems smart, he’ll figure it out soon, if he hasn’t already. You don’t know how they’ll use me. If they’ll take me away, if they’ll-‘ his thoughts shatter at the memories of chains, heat, whips. 

“I will not let them use you. I swore that, Janus, I swore that the same time you swore to protect me.” He nodded, though he wasn’t fully convinced. He didn’t trust easily, barely trusted anyone, Virgil and Patton were the only exceptions. 

“If you both are settled and comfortable, I will go fetch some food. You both should eat something. I… have questions, obviously, but none that you must answer if you are uncomfortable, as Virgil clearly has no objection to your presence. I will be back shortly.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Logan left the room.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Virgil. Couldn’t let go of his hands. He felt Patton move, resettling around them, so he was curled around them both, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the feeling of Patton’s presence, the warmth and comfort of it, drowning in the presence of Virgil.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus and Virgil talk, Logan updates Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has no schedule and I have no idea where I'm going with it, so who knows when this'll get updated again, but it's not dead!

He jumped slightly at a small shake of his shoulder, eyes blinking open, relaxing as he met Virgil’s. 

“Logan brought food. You need to eat.” 

‘so do you.’ He thought petulantly. 

“And stop doing that. You know it takes more energy than just talking.” He scowled, but knew Virgil was right.

“Habit.” It wouldn’t normally matter, that he communicated mentally with Virgil more than he actually spoke aloud, usually he had plenty of power built up already. 

He hadn’t been this drained of magic, hadn’t used it all up like this in years, and the feeling was both strange and far too familiar for comfort. Luckily he siphoned magic out of the air with every breath, and a few days of rest would be all it took to be bursting with it once more. If he could stop using it up as soon as he had any, which meant using nothing for the moment, because the fight with Logan had already started drawing on his core, his life force, which was why he was so weak now. If that core were ever used up completely, if his spark of magic ever went out completely he would die. 

He wasn’t that low, yet, though he was getting dangerously low, enough that he knew Virgil was right, as much as he hated it. It was instinct, to use magic, with every breath in and out, he used magic, so to simply stop was extremely difficult. 

“I know, kiddo.” He jumped slightly again, at Patton’s soft rumble from behind him, realizing his eyes had drifted closed again, he was tired, Rikash save him, he was tired. He’d been sustaining himself entirely by his magic for nearly three months. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn’t killed him. “eat something, please?” 

He managed, barely, his hands were shaking so hard, but he refused Virgil’s attempts to help him. Virgil knew better than to be offended, simply rolling his eyes as he ate himself, both of them sticking to the bread and very lightly seasoned rice. Still, anything tasted like heaven, to him, and he savored every bite, until he had to stop or risk being sick. 

“How did you get here?” Virgil finally asked, setting aside his own food. He shrugged. 

“your trail wasn’t easy to follow. They did a good job, covering tracks. Once I heard all I could, I knew where to look, and once I found the bunker-“ He broke off at the memories of that cold space, of the chains, of the table, of the dried blood, so much blood, but it helped, at least. “I used what I found to make my sense of you stronger, even if it wasn’t by much, and from there I followed your steps.” 

“how was there even a trace of me?” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. 

“There wasn’t, not really, just the barest whisp. I couldn’t stop moving, Vee, if I stopped moving the trail would die, and didn’t have time to let my magic build back up, to have enough to cast a spell to find you, not to mention by then I was afraid you’d already be dead, so it wouldn’t matter anyway, I’d seen the bunker, I’d heard Roman, I knew… I knew what he’d done. I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.” 

“You can stop now, Janus.” He looked up in confusion, before Virgil huffed, reaching out and running a thumb over his cheek. Oh. He hadn’t realized he was still holding the disguise in place. 

Instantly, the smooth skin vanished, the old, faded burn scar, barely recognizable as a brand, unfurling across his cheek, along with the slash scar going diagonal across his left eye, the wound had damaged his vision slightly in that eye. Of course, the person who had done that had suffered far worse, from the hands of his owner. 

He shuddered, as the magic released, integrating back into his core, giving him a modicum of strength back, though that seemed to only make him realize how drained and exhausted he really was, because his vision went black and white with static, his pulse roaring in his ears. 

“Janus!” Virgil’s voice made it past the ringing in his ears, and he blinked his vision clear, if just barely. 

“F-fuck.” He stuttered out, breath caught in his throat. He felt heavy, everything felt heavy, like the universe itself was sitting on his chest and crushing his lungs, his head swimming. 

“Patton-“ 

“I know, kitten.” He gasped, as he felt soft power flooding into him, the warmth and gentleness of it sending him reeling, he could see the soft violet/blue aura surrounding Patton and Virgil, as they fed power into him, then he found his voice once more. 

“S-stop. You need it more. Stop.” He demanded weakly, the flow of magic breaking off, Virgil gasping as he slumped back against Patton. 

“You were about to black out, Janus.” Virgil replied. 

“Well, now we’re both about to black out. I’m unclear on how that’s better.” He grumbled, feeling the rumble of Patton’s chuckle. 

“We both need the sleep, Jan. Now come here.” Virgil grumbled back, exasperated, helping him to sit, then pulling him to his chest, so his head rested over his heart, a soothing beat. He felt Virgil pull the blankets over both of them, Patton curling tight around them. 

As much as he hated it, the magic they’d fed him had helped significantly, he didn’t feel like he was drowning on dry land anymore, like the faintest whisp of wind would blow him away. He felt solid and steady. Enough he was no longer scared that if he fell asleep, he wouldn’t wake up. 

He felt Virgil’s head press against his, his hair tickling his face, as he allowed himself to drift, trying to stay in a light half sleep, to be on guard, but a soft blip of warmth from Patton sent him tumbling deeper, and soon he was completely out, Virgil not far behind.   
…  
Logan let out a low breath, leaning back against the wall outside the door. The two boys were sound asleep, for the moment, and so was Patton, for that matter. He felt confident they would stay out for a while, so he wasn’t concerned about leaving them alone. 

He just… needed a moment to compose himself, before updating Remus. Because it was obvious that Janus, too, had been very badly hurt, had been branded, just the thought made him shake with anger, and he had to force himself to breath steadily in and out or he would lose his entire mind. 

He took another deep breath, then knocked twice on Remus’s door, before slipping inside. He was pacing the floor, though his face softened when he looked up and saw Logan, clearly having been worried about him. 

“Everything is fine. The situation is handled.” Remus raised an eyebrow. 

“Handled?” He sighed. 

“We have another traumatized child to care for, without alerting anyone to his presence, but otherwise, yes, the situation is handled. They are very close, know each other, Virgil trusts him, they are resting.” 

“Ooookaaaay. Well, that’s… something, at least.” 

“Also, he is a half Djinn.” Remus spit out the drink of water he’d just started taking, spluttering and spinning to face him, halting his pacing. 

“Record scratch? How do you know?!” Logan coughed, flushing slightly as he looked away. 

“Ah. We had a bit of an… altercation, in the interrogation room. He had managed to slip his bonds. My magic simply did not affect him even though he had been directly hit with it. He also exhibited several different kinds of magical prowess, as well as no upper limit on what energy he could use. Not to mention, not just anyone could feasibly best me, even temporarily.” 

“Little cocky there, Logan.” 

“It is simply a fact.” Logan replied, eyes distant. “He’s clearly from the desert, a nomadic tribe, probably. Either sold or captured or kidnapped into slavery, based on the brand. Somehow, he came into Virgil’s orbit. He said he was sworn to protect Virgil, so likely Virgil helped free him or bought and then released him. He… did not react well, to the chains, so be sensitive when you speak with him. He seems to have spent himself up, to find Virgil, an incredible feat, for a being that naturally holds more magic than any human can even dream of, not to mention how quickly their stores are refilled once depleted.” 

“Slow down, Lo. Are you alright?” 

“What? Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Remus huffed at the question, rolling his eyes. 

“You just said you got into an ‘altercation’ with a half Djinn. Most wouldn’t get out of a fight like that unscarred, no matter how good you are.” 

“He did not injure me. He wanted information, so he took care not to harm me. But I don’t think he would have mortally wounded me, anyways. He was angry, yes, but he seems more… protective, than violent.” Remus nodded, sitting down on his chair. 

“That matches with what the guards said. He took down two of them, though he disabled a few others. They said he seemed to take care to make his attacks non lethal, not even injuring them, really. Stunning spells, a couple intense itching spells, things that put them out of commission. He seemed desperate, not violent.” Logan nodded, coming over to lean against the desk, eyes lost in the distance again, as he thought. 

“Understandable, if he thought we were holding Virgil captive. He seems incredibly loyal to him. Not to mention his lineage.” Remus crinkled his brow, and Logan looked at him, deflating a bit. 

“He has been enslaved because of what he is before, Remus. He has no reason to believe we won’t do the same.” 

“I won’t. I wouldn’t.” Remus said fervently, and Logan smiled, though it was tinged with a tired fondness. 

“I know. But humans don’t have a good track record, in their interactions with Djinn, no matter how rare those occurances are, and even less so with their offspring. He is a font of power, Remus, and there are many, many people who wouldn’t consider him human, consider him capable of emotions or feelings, because of the reputation of his parent. It will take a fair amount of convincing, before he starts remotely trusting us, but I don’t think he will be openly hostile or aggressive towards us, but he will be suspicious.” Remus leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. 

“Alright. Well, we’ll do whatever we can, to make him comfortable, to reassure the both of them that they’re safe, and hopefully once he sees Virgil believes it, he’ll start believing it. And once everyone’s had some rest, we can figure out what to do about the rest of the situation. About Roman.  
Now go get some rest, Lo. You need it too.” Remus murmured, and Logan frowned, about to argue, stopping as Remus rested a hand on his. “You’re tired and angry and two seconds from snapping, don’t think I can’t see it. Just try and do something else, for a while, something relaxing. Ok?” 

“Alright. Alright, provided you do the same. You’ve been fretting too, no doubt.” 

“Fair is fair. Now go, I know the librarians have been missing you, these past few days.” Logan snorted, rolling his eyes, though he didn’t deny it, as he swept out of the room. Remus stretched, before pulling out his sketchbook, starting to draw absently, not surprised when it started turning into a sketch of Virgil and Patton.


End file.
